Affair To Remember
by VioletGranger
Summary: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have a secret. They've been sleeping together for over a year. No love signed in the contract. On their one year aniversary, they begin to realise that keeping this affair under wraps is going to be more difficult than they thought. Ron and Astoria might find out! Why can't Draco keep his hands off her? This will be an affair to remember.
1. Hermione Jean Granger

FanFiction Name:

Author: Violet Granger ( )

Start date: 1/11/2012

Rating: M

Themes and warnings: Romance, Action, lovers quarrel, infidelity, lemons.

A/N: I have another account on here but I'm not telling any of you who I am here's the clue: Time turner. For some it should be easy. The reason behind my mysterious disappearance is that I'm leaving a life of bad FanFiction behind (unless you liked the long one I wrote) and starting anew with something hot. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger hastily pulled herself out of the empty conference room door on the Department of International magical cooperation and let the door silently close behind her as she straightened her purple and black striped pencil skirt and fixed the last few buttons of her lavender coloured shirt. Even under the strange circumstance, Hermione was more than grateful that her brown hair was more tameable since using the permanent sleek-easy potion, which as a result hadn't straightened it completely – it was still frizzy and curly – it just looked less of a birds nest than it did in first year.

Hermione sighed to herself and quickly pulled out her hand mirror, and gazed lazily at the small red love bite on her neck. She scowled at it. A simple beauty charm would do the trick but she'd rather he not bite her during their encounters. It was all him – Hermione had never bit him, he always bit her. A mark of his on her body to show that secretly, he owned her. He owned her sexually more than Ron Weasley could ever imagine. The thought of Ron filled her head and then she decided the ultimatum.

She decided that it would not happen again.

But it always did. No matter how much she tried not to think about him – about him touching her, his kisses and the way he circled his arms around her waist like a snake…no. Hermione knew that this had to stop. For Ron's sake, she had to stop this illicit affair or else she'll pay the hard way.

Quietly, Hermione rounded the corner and did the one thing she knew she did well – straighten her back, breathe in through her mouth and brace herself for any people questioning her warebouts in the last half an hour. She would say that she went to get something to eat, or went home to feed crookshanks quickly – but in her heart, Hermione knew that what she was doing was completely and morally wrong.

She stopped immediately before entering the atrium and turned on her heels to face the hallway and the room she just came from, quizzically, she waited for him to come out after her.

The conference door opened and Draco Malfoy dressed sharply in his grey suit and robe in his arms, stepped out and took one look at Hermione, before winking at her and turning the other way. She felt herself blush and pressed her back against the wall, closing her eyes, all she saw was the annoying yet misunderstood seventeen year old boy with flaxen blond bangs in Hogwarts – by the time they were twenty, and Draco had his redemption, he was back on top in the wizarding world and a favourite in the ministry of magic. Dating the ridiculously sexy and dirty rich Astoria Greengrass, he presumably had everything a young entrepreneur could want.

Except, Astoria didn't have the one thing Draco wanted in a woman.

The war came and went. People were forgiven and others were scrutinised. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all surprised with the mercy the ministry gave to those involved with the war. Lucius Malfoy was sentenced to Azkaban for fifty years, while Narcissa got off when she lied about Harry's death to Voldemort himself. His sick-bitch aunt Bellatrix Lestrange was dead for all she was worth. All Malfoy had was his mother, who according to Witch Weekly was spending her time in France.

When the war ended, Hermione Granger decided to continue her education at Hogwarts for her final year, and passed every single N.E.W.T exam with flying colours. She was head girl and guess who was head boy? Draco Malfoy. Back then, they still loathed each other, but neither knew by the time they were both 22, they would be fucking each other from Monday to Sunday. Her relationship with Ron at the time was reaching a breaking point, and by the first time she slept with Malfoy, they had broken up after he cheated on her with Lavender Brown. Hermione forgave Lavender – she wasn't that kind of person, really. She didn't forgive Ron until he literally begged her to take him back. He was a mess back then. So they got back together, and everything seemed completely fine for a few months until he came home drunk one night…Hermione went to the ministry to finish some paperwork and ran into Draco who was doing the same thing…and the next minute, she woke up blindly naked on the carpet behind the desk in Malfoy's office with her legs wrapped around him, her bare chest pressed to his front and her lips pouty from all the kissing.

It happed all the time since then.

Except for Sundays. She visited her parents on Sundays.

The funny thing was, Hermione never felt like a whore or a home-wrecker. She very well knew that Draco wasn't happy with Astoria who, in fact, was cheating on Draco herself with Theodore Nott. Ron was sleeping with a mysterious black-haired girl that played on his favourite quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, and Hermione went on with her life by pretending Ron wasn't screwing around and that she was as celibate as a nun in a confessionary. That of course, was a huge fucking lie.

Draco Abraxas Malfoy is one of the most desired wizards in the world in the 21st century. He's got girls fawning over him at every corner, and as much as Hermione hated to admit it – he's a looker, too. Pale blond bangs covering his stormy grey eyes that always match his suit, he has a cheeky smile that could make hundreds of women faint and send their ovaries exploding sky high. He wasn't muscly, thank God – she hated that. But to her, behind the money, behind the women and the success, he was always the scrawny, pale and pureblood fascist he was when they were kids.

The only problem was that he had changed.

He was nicer.

War changes people – Hermione knew that. Draco donated _millions_ of galleons to wizarding charities in aid to help those who lost their homes and everything they had. That didn't make him a saint. To some women, Hermione guessed, that they thought he was a God. Hermione rolled her eyes. He never even took pride in it; he always just gave it and carried on with his life without taking a second glance. That was the cold part of him that would never go away even if you slapped him in the face with a thousand rainbows.

_So that was it,_ Hermione thought. She was sleeping with Draco Malfoy. He was sleeping with her. Ron was cheating on Hermione. Hermione was cheating on Ron. Astoria was cheating on Draco with Theodore Nott. Draco was cheating on Astoria.

What kind of fucked up place is she living in?

Well, at least Harry was happy. He was 'the boy who lived' after all. He deserved true happiness with Ginny Weasley after all the shit he'd been through – they were inseparable from the second the war ended and in love with each other completely.

On some days when Hermione couldn't sleep at night, she'd grab Crookshanks and sit by her bedroom balcony and stare at the moon – and wonder where her personal life all went wrong. She and Ron had their own apartments. Fucking other people whilst in a 'committed' relationship was one thing – but moving in together while doing it was another. Hermione needed her personal space. Her own sanctuary (in reality, her _real_ sanctuary was her study – wall to wall books everywhere she turned).

Hermione entered the atrium and coyly walked past several dozens of wizards making their way back to their offices after the lunch break. As she entered the elevator to go get Lavender for Care of Magical Creatures assessment followed by the Auror meeting with Harry and Ron, her stomach growled. She frowned. She missed lunch. Lavender was ready to go by the time she got there. The ironic thing about Hermione and Lavender was that they became closer friends even after she discovered her infidelity with Ron two years ago. They were never on the best of terms in school but soon Lavender, who knew Hermione preferred to keep people away from her on weekends, always came over around the time Eastenders was on with a tub of strawberry ice-cream and Chinese food.

Lavender didn't know that Hermione was sleeping with Draco.

She wouldn't tell her yet. For the life of her, Lavender couldn't keep her mouth quiet if she tried. She used to blurt things out in the middle of the Gryffindor girl's dormitory – so how was Hermione supposed to let something she'd bottled up for months, nearly a year, and tell _blabbermouth_ _brown_? (That was the nickname Lavender never knew she had but everyone else called her that behind her back, anyways.)

On Hermione's 22nd birthday, Draco bought her three things: A three year gift card to a luxury spa in France, flights and hotels included – a sapphire necklace with the jewel in the shape of a tear drop – and a one-and-only aged copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets worth over 2.3 million in the UK alone. God, she hated him. But it seemed like the more they carried on, the more they knew about each other. Hermione knew he hated strong coffee, and only drank it milky.

Astoria couldn't cook or brew coffee at all. Draco was allergic to lily flowers and blueberries which consequentially, were Hermione's favourite toast spread to have on a Sunday morning. They never slept together in Malfoy Manor. During the week, they'd go to his apartment in Muggle London that apparently, was as luxurious as Malfoy Manor as expensive, too. He respected her space and never insisted going to hers.

On Draco's 21st birthday, Hermione bought him a pair of personalised pure silver cufflinks with the initials D.M moulded together across the front. They changed between gold and silver throughout the week. He loved them. Hermione relished on the fact that he was wearing them today, especially when unclasping them as she unhooked her bra. Those are the only ones he wears, now.

"You alright, Hermione? You look a little…distracted." Lavender said, popping a piece of pink bubble-gum in her mouth and started chewing like there was no tomorrow. She had given up smoking three months ago and got hooked to hubba bubba-bubble-gum the second she saw it in the corner shop.

Hermione felt like screaming the truth out to the rooftops, but she was much smarter than that. Instead, she shook her head and continued with: "No, I'm fine. Just thinking about what to cook for dinner tonight." Ron was supposed to come over for dinner at hers that night. For a split second, Hermione was genuinely concerned with what she was actually going to cook for him, but then realised that he might not even show up. He'd use the excuse about working extra to pay for rent, or a 'surprise gift' he thought Hermione would think for herself, but it never was. Their relationship wasn't always loveless. Ron wanted kids more than anything, but Hermione wanted a career and nothing more until she was at least 28. After all, her parents didn't have her until they were thirty.

"Why don't you do that mushroom ravioli you made for me when I was sick? Or the chicken soup – that was amazing." Lavender grinned at her. "He'd love it Hermione, I reckon. Why don't you do that?"

Hermione nodded and took in her answer with kindness by smiling back at her. "I think I will, Lav. Thanks a million."

Lavender hooked her arm around Hermione, blew a bubble, popped it, and they hurried to the conference room.

After the conference, Lavender split up from Hermione to go send an owl to Neville Longbottom, who was currently training to be a Herbology teacher in Hogwarts. He and Lavender were the odd couple. Hermione hurried to the Auror department and as she opened the door, a ball of fire the size of a plum shot right at her and she ducked as it hit the wall behind her. Hermione's hair flew up and had her wand at the ready.

"Sorry, Hermione!" Harry yelled at her from across the room. The boy with the round glasses grinned sheepishly and put his wand on the desk table. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"You need to get those glasses checked, Harry." Ron stepped into view and waved at his girlfriend. "Hey, love."  
Hermione felt like flinching. He wasn't home last night and she called him five times throughout the day. She shrugged it off and carried on. "I'm fine, Ron. Really – I just came for practice." She looked around for Ginny who was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Ginny?"

"She's at home. Sick." Harry said glumly. "Molly's been feeding her chicken soup in doses from the minute she sneezed last night."  
"She'll be fine, Harry. Don't worry; Gin's as strong as a horse."

Padma Patel and Seamus Finnegan strolled through the Aurora office door, but not before glancing at the gaping burnt hole in the wall. "What the hell happened?" Seamus asked the others.

"Harry needs to go to Specsavers." Hermione murmured to herself, and Harry laughed, while Ron looked at them confusedly.

"What's Specsavers?" He asked.

"Nevermind. But yeah, I nearly socked hermione in the face with Incendio." Harry said, giving Hermione an apologetic look.

"You were an inch away from getting her head blown off, Potter." A voice snarled from behind Hermione. She was hesitant to look around so didn't. Silence.

"Are you going to move out of the way Granger or do I have to pick you up and put you somewhere else myself?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, he couldn't see it but the others could. She gripped her wand in hand but moved nonetheless, but not before turning to face Malfoy, who had that flushed look on his face. The same I-want-you-right-here-right-now look was burning through his steel-grey eyes.

"Good afternoon to you too, Malfoy." She cocked her head to the side and fluttered her eyes, "How was your lunch break?"

He didn't smile but she could see that he wanted to. Draco nodded. "Spent it with Nott and Astoria." He looked at the others. "Is the meeting here or are we just standing here like idiots whilst trying to set Granger on fire or what?"

_God, I love it when she does that, _Draco thought as Hermione fluttered her eyelashes at him. Ah yes, he had taught her well. He taught her how to hide her just-fucked hair and face after fucking, and she was a pro at it, no doubt. She had the most beautiful eyes – more entrancing than Astoria's pale blue ones. There was something warm about them…but he couldn't put his finger on it. Her hair was still a mess – but somehow the witch managed to tame it enough to be passed as hair and not an actual bird's nest. In bed while she slept, he always played with ringlets of her hair by twisting it around his fingers and watching her hair splay out across the silk of his bed sheets. She told him that they were comfortable one night, so he bought her the same bed, the same bed sheets in five different colours the next day and had it delivered by 6pm.

Draco Malfoy knew it was just sex and nothing more. No romance. The closest thing relatable to romance with their affair is the art of having mind-blowing sex and kissing all the same. Neither of them had said the word 'love' to each other yet, thank merlin. As the Auror meeting continued, Draco took it upon himself to have some fun with Granger while they listened to Kingsley at the meeting. While she was busying herself taking notes, Draco had sat himself next to her and was watching Kingsley intently while reaching over and placing his hand on her knee. Hermione didn't move an inch, but she definitely seemed to have taken notice of what he was doing.

Carefully, he slid his hand up her skirt, stroking her inner thigh…and that's when Hermione moved a little. She parted her pink lips, the ones that Draco so desperately wanted to ravish with his mouth, and she breathed in lightly, before letting out a small sigh. His fingers reached her underwear, and as Hermione finished the last word of her sentence in her notepad – he went home.

Hermione let out the most un-Hermione-ish squeak.

"Hermione, you alright?"

She looked at Harry and nodded her head. "Just – tired, that's all. Sorry minister." She apologised to Kingsley, and he continued with his speech. She felt Draco slide his fingers against her, and she wanted to pounce on him right then and there. This _wasn't_ funny. He hadn't done something like this in around two months. He was toying with her and good Merlin, she _loved_ it. His grey eyes flicked towards her and caught her fiery gaze. She mouthed the word _"you." _and narrowed her eyes at him. Draco smirked and when he was nearly done, Hermione crossed her legs so his hand was trapped. He shot her a questioning glare before she smirked right back at him and shyly yet seductively bit her lip. She knew that it drove him up the wall when she did that. And no one else seemed to notice.

Draco felt his pants harden.

Ah yes, he had most _definitely_ taught Hermione Granger, know-it-all bookish extraordinaire, _very_ well.

A/N: First chapter finished, right on. What do you guys think? Getting hot now or what? Mind you, I haven't written FanFiction in months. Stay tuned for chapter two – by the way, I'm writing these beforehand so the chapters will keep on shooting up so check for updates every two days or so.

Peace out!

S.D


	2. Draco Abraxas Malfoy

A/N: Here's chapter two. I'm hoping that these will stay under 15 chapters at the least – I don't want to make this long at all. Here it is guys, enjoy!

Hermione sighed heavily and plopped herself onto one of the chairs by the kitchen table, staring at the burned block – well, it _was_ chocolate cake – before Hermione decided to catch up on some left over paperwork and completely forgot that she was baking altogether. Around page 43 of her work, she smelled the faint waft of smoke emitting from the kitchen and legged it.

She turned to the stove and breathed out lightly, a thankful, small sigh that at least the honey roast chicken had been saved. Hastily throwing the potatoes in the serving tray, drizzling with lemon and oil dressing she knew was Ron's favourite taste, Hermione placed the hearty meal on the table and straightened out the cutlery. She checked her wristwatch. Ron should be home at any minute now.

To be honest, Hermione was a _little_ excited to cook for Ron. For one, she loved showing off her cooking skills, and Ron loved her cooking. There was one thing he always did, and that was appreciating the smell of food when he got home. Hermione sat down, checked her watch again and waited for Ron to finish his shift.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By 11pm, Hermione had given up. She knew he wouldn't come home, because he was probably doing one of the over-shifts that he loved doing with Harry and Neville. The food was cold, untouched and Hermione quite frankly, was hungry beyond belief. She began to help herself to the food on the plate in front of her and set it in the microwave for 4 minutes, before hurrying into the bathroom to have a quick shower and change. After wrapping the towel around her and exiting the bathroom, she heard the familiar sharp sizzle and green puff of smoke from the fireplace in the living room. She rolled her eyes. It wouldn't be Ron – he's too traditional and uses an owl to send letters.

Hermione walked across the living room and stared down at the flawless silver letter with neat, sharp green cursive addressing her name.

Draco was the only one who used the floo network to send letters because, well, he was Draco Malfoy.

It appeared that Hermione thought the letter was urgent, because if he had time to waste, he would've sent it in the first place. She rolled her eyes at the thought of him scribbling a letter as urgently as possible – Hermione lifted the flap after breaking the green wax seal and stared at the letter:

_Granger,_

_After today's little session and extra treat under the conference table, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me on the convention at Hogwarts for a few days during the term – I hear Potter and Weasley were going, but I'd only consider going unless you'd go with me…_

Hermione considered the fact that she'd have to go with Ron and not Draco because, well; it would look rather strange, wouldn't it?

…_I could always call you on your telephone (yes, not all purebloods are impaired to muggle devices, I know how to work one) if it's too much to send me back an owl. Also, has Weasley gone home yet? I heard from Blabbermouth Brown that you're cooking for that oaf, and last time I saw him he was busy with Potter and Longbottom in the Auror department._

_I'll know when you've finished reading so I'll call you later, Granger._

_D.M_

_P.S – have I ever mentioned how hot your ass looks bent over a table? _

Hermione blushed fiercely. Draco knew that Hermione had cooked for Ron and he was still at work. Something seemed to rise within her, and before she knew it, she slammed her bedroom door shut and completely forgot about her dinner in the microwave. After changing into her Pyjamas, she heard the front door of the apartment open and close quietly, and she knew that Ron knew she would be mad.

And hell, she was.

Storming into the living room, Hermione stood by the doorway with her hands to her hips. "Where were you, Ron?"  
Ron only noticed her then, his face going as red as his hair. The puppy-apologetic look wasn't too much this time. "Hermione, I'm so sorry – it was work – it caught up –"

"Oh, it did, didn't it? Yes, because I was just told by Mal—Lavender, that you were in the Auror office after your shift finished? I cooked, Ron! I cooked a lot of food! You could've at least called!" She snapped at him.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I really am sorry, Mione."  
"Don't call me Mione! My name is _Hermione_! The name I've been called throughout Hogwarts – who in God's name calls me 'Mione'?"

"Okay! Okay!" Ron said, holding his hands up in defence. "I really am sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to hold you up. Look, how about I cook tomorrow? A special meal, just for the two of us? No work, no distractions? I'll cook that pesto pasta with parmesan you really like – I still remember the recipe and everthi–oh." Ron said in deep realisation.  
Hermione's face fell flat. "Oh…what?"  
"I…I forgot," Ron began, running a hand through his ginger hair, "And I already signed up for it…the Hogwarts convention. You know the one that we were talking about? Me and Harry signed up for it – it's tomorrow – we have to go. Hermione, I'm so sorr–"

Hermione didn't even let Ron finish the sentence before she grabbed a book from the bookshelf and stormed into their bedroom, letting the door slam shut behind her. She would wait until Ron would shower before going into the kitchen to get her food. Right now, she wanted to throw the book

Although she hated it, Hermione had to admit that sometimes Draco really did seem to care more about her than Ron did. She hated thinking like that, because Ron was her boyfriend but also, one of her best friends. But sometimes it just felt like they were friends and friends only – like roommates instead of a couple.

Hermione stared at the silver letter sitting across from her on the duvet. She grabbed it, scrunched it up into a ball and tossed it in the bin, and with a flick of her wand, the letter caught fire and began to shrivel up into a pile of ash. When the fire went out, she opened the windows and sprayed the room with air freshener. When Ron came into the room to go to bed, she told him to stay on the couch.

He did.

Harry and Ron left for Hogwarts first thing in the morning. They left at approximately 10:55am to meet with the other wizards at Platform nine and three quarters. They would be gone for three days, at the most. Draco wasn't going. Hermione knew that, now. Hermione wanted to keep her mind off the urge to end the relationship with Ron, but she didn't want to see his broken face when it happened – so she avoided everyone and everything until those three days were over.

At around 10pm on the first night, Hermione was sorting out paperwork and signing documents. After her long Auror session with Lavender and Zabini, she entered her office in a sweat and looked around – there was absolutely nothing else to do. She had pretty much finished all her work for the week and hell, maybe the month.

Hermione went into the bathroom and stares at her face. She looked ill. Wiping off all her makeup (she never really did like wearing eyeliner that much.) she tied her hair back into a loose French plait and went back to her office to just sit there and wait until new referrals would come in for the morning.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and slammed her head against the desk. Ron was gone. Ginny was gone, too. Lavender had gone home ages ago and everyone else was leaving to go back to their roommates, partners, husbands and wives and families and Hermione was just…there.

And then there was a knock at her door.

"Go away…" Hermione groaned, keeping her eyes closed.

They knocked again.

"Do you mind?" she snapped at the closed door, "Office is closed!"  
She didn't look but felt the gust of fresh air, meaning that they had opened the door. Hermione looked up, her eyes wide and angry, but slightly softened at the sight of Draco Malfoy, still dressed as clean and sharply as he always was, looking unaffected by the day and the work, staring down at her. His eyes looked…vacant, at the slightest.

She took note that his whitish-blond bangs were slightly frazzled. Much like her, his hair had seen the wrong side of the stick by late night work.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione said.

Draco took a simple step forward. "Such the tone of surprise, Granger. How are we? I haven't seen you all day." He said.

"Wow there, Malfoy. You almost sounded like you were worried there for a second."

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "Who said I wasn't?"  
Oh God. He was using that voice on her. That strange, sexy, annoying, caring voice he seemed to mask so well over certain people.

"You know, with the way you carry on with certain people, you're actually showing the psychological traits of a sociopath." Said Hermione suavely. She stood up and walked over to her bag and started rummaging around for her house-keys. She was fed up. She wanted to go home.

And suddenly, she felt

"Psychopaths can be very good lovers, Granger." He whispered huskily against her ear, and licked the shell. "_Hermione_. Hermione Jean Granger, bookworm _extraordinaire_." He whispers against her throat.

And he touched her. He touched her _there._

Hermione moaned a little.

Draco went crazy from that moment on. His hand snaked around her waist and pulled down her pencil skirt, which then pooled around her ankles. She stepped out of them and Draco grasped the side of her button-tuck shirt and ripped the buttons, popping them, the brass scattering around the room. The one thing Hermione never denied, and loved on some occasions, was Draco taking control. He would rip apart her clothes (and offer to buy new ones later on after they finished) and then, out of nowhere, be _very_ sweet during sex.

After the heat, the passion, the sex – Hermione's eyes snapped open.

And there she was, she had done it again – she was lying on top of a naked Draco on the floor of her office, her leg wrapped around him, the bare skin of her breasts pressed against his chest, his stringy blond fringe, the soft trickle of sweat down her forehead and her matted chestnut brown hair. They looked up at each other, staring at each other with the flicker of fire in their eyes.

"We should probably…"

"No Granger, let's stay here for a while. It's nice."

Hermione laughed. "You said that the first time we had sex."  
Draco laughed, too, and ran a hand through his hair, pulling his fringe back. "And I'll say that after every time I screw you into the ground."  
Hermione frowned. "Do you have to be so vulgar with your language?"  
He pulled a funny face, and Hermione laughed again, pressing her head to his chest, and she hears his heartbeat.

"I love being with you, Hermione." Draco said, pulling her face up to meet his at eye-level with him. "I really love…this."  
Hermione bit her lower lip. "I love it, too."

She notes how they only used the 'love' word for sex and nothing more. That was their boundary. Their wall.

"We should probably go home, Malfoy. Astoria's probably waiting." Hermione said, pulling herself off Malfoy and hurrying towards the lamp where her Bra dangles over.

"I'm in no hurry. Astoria's too busy sleeping with Nott."  
Hermione went still and turned back to him. "Nott? As in _Theodore_ Nott?"  
Draco nods. "The one and only. Been about eight months, now. She's not very good at keeping it a secret. Considering I can hear her howling and screaming from the entertainment room in the Manor late at night. You'd think they'd have the decency to shag when I'm not home – but oh well."

"I never knew – I never thought that–"

"Our relationship is loveless, Granger. I haven't slept with Astoria, or her sister, in about seven months. She's not like you. She's…different."  
"Different?" She asked curiously.

"No passion. Not like you, Hermione. Who knew that I'd be your bitch boy on occasions like these?"  
"You are not my bitch boy, Malfoy." Hermione said softly, "You're more of a sex slave, anyway.

"Oh, I am, am I?" Draco murmurs with a small chuckle, "And what about Weasley? Has he been fooling around yet?"  
Hermione clasped her bra together at the back and slid on her knickers. " I don't think so. He's been working a lot, hasn't he? If he was, Lavender probably would've told me."  
"Ah yes, Blabbermouth Brown. Slept with her once in sixth year. Bloody loud screamer, she was…"  
"Draco, can you not tell me of whom you've slept with after we've just had sex? It kind of ruins the mood." Hermione said with a dead-pan face. "Also, you're such a slut – you've slept with everyone in school – where's the bad reputation?"

Draco laughed at the mention of him being a slut. He stood up, stark naked, and grabbed his boxers from the desk. "Maybe sometimes I should go commando – just for you, Granger."  
Hermione stuck her tongue out at Draco and used her wand to re-attach the buttons to her shirt. When it was fixed, she slid on her pencil skirt. "We've got that two-day referral tomorrow," she said with a sigh, "And please, at the meeting, please refrain yourself from touching me."  
Draco's arms found her waist again and pulled her closer. He left a trail of kisses on her neck. "Shall we take part two back to mine? Astoria's gone to Nott's for the night. Just the two of us."  
"No Malfoy, I want to go home and sleep…"  
"With me?" He said with a cheeky grin.

Hermione pushed him away. "In your dreams."  
"And my reality." He said, "Come on, I'll even cook that fancy pasta you like. You know the one that Weasley can't cook but you love it anyway because he made the effort."  
Hermione rolled her eyes, turned around and fixed his grey tie. "I think I'd rather have you than the pasta."  
Draco made a little sound deep inside his throat. He loved it when she did that.

"Mine, then?" Draco whispered against her face.

Hermione nodded and slid her hands into his pants, grabbing his crotch. "Yours. Now."

Nice chapter?

:D


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